Dhanna t'Jaiehe

Independent roleplay blog for Dhanna t’Jaiehe, a Star Trek based original character. Sideblog to @ltbroccoli​.

 “Me, too!” Naturally… an easy spot for a junior officer to be in. Even if she needed intel, she couldn’t draw too much attention. “Drats… I’m not great at being subtle.” … Drats? Really, Ania? And even saying she wasn’t great at being subtle… “I’ll just keep my head down, then. And follow your lead! How’s that sound?” 

   Ania’s smile can’t help but grow, nearly simper at Dhanna. Oh, she likes her. Delightfully intriguing? Gods… Funny, and beautiful, and the friendliest face on Romulus thus far. “Then I must be in luck.” Uh… is she flirting? “Personally, I don’t think all prying is bad.” It’s just then that another Romulan clambers down the hall, and Ania falls respectfully silent, inclines her head at them. They return it, silently, turn a corridor, and they’re alone again. “What shifts are you on?” 

   “Ha – of course.” It has the decency to come out bashful – she smiles, full-faced, realizing only belatedly that she’s not sure if she’ll blush green or red. Dammit. “Thank you.” After all, a word of warning like that was a big thing, to Romulans, right? 

   She pauses, shifting through the thought of military-oriented upbringing and – as she often is – finds herself curious. “What about you? Not prying, though, just… getting to know each other. How do you feel about that?”

It was unsurprising that records were kept on notable Starfleet officers. The Romulans were a very organized, very secretive people who valued information. Data did not consider himself a better officer than his colleagues, but he was aware that he was notable, especially the societies that were yet unfamiliar with synthetic lifeforms. “I believe that would be wise.” A statement that was not meant to be a threat, but Data interpreted the words as sounding vaguely threatening nevertheless. 

“There must be more than ‘duty’ and ‘sacrifice’,” he questioned. “Although I have never heard a Romulan discuss anything that was not along those lines. Does your work consume your life?” He knew this was not the case for humans. Humans had desires and needs based in material possessions, experiences, and relationships. This could be viewed as a weakness by other races.

        “you can say that again.” but she makes a good point, believe it or not, and though lister doesn’t care much for what’s going on around him, he thinks pointing that out to dhanna would probably be a mistake. “okay,” he says. “if we’re learning from each other, tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.” he grins, leaning his elbow on the table and looking at her expectantly. “well?”

Another Mun Vs. Muse Picrew

This was not the first time Data had been asked this question. In fact, he had been asked seven different variations of this very same inquiry. He supposed it was because people misconstrued lack of emotion for lack of morality. “Logic would dictate that I save whoever is more likely to survive. It is implied that they would be in exactly equal situations, which is near impossible. However, if that were the case, I need to take the entire context of the scenario into consideration.”

He paused clearly perplexed by the question as he always was. “You are asking me which of those individuals has more value than the other. It is my duty to protect any and all Starfleet officers to the best of my ability. I value both equally. I suppose I would not be able to make the decision until I was faced with it. If the situation were that dire, I would not take time to deliberate. It would simply be a reaction.” 

Satisfied with the answer, he then offered it to Dhanna. “If I understand your customs correctly, I believe you would choose to save the higher ranking Romulan official.” 

“Of course.” There was no other answer in Dhanna’s mind. “And every officer in the Imperial Fleet understands that it is our duty to sacrifice ourselves if called upon to do so.” But his answer still intrigued her. The thought of a computer being able to act on impulse, react unpredictably to a situation at hand...

   A ragged breath in, and out, gentle, the rising and falling of the sea, abating barely, painfully. Tachyons. A wave of pain takes her, scrubs her away until she almost nothing, almost simply a speck among the sand, a piece of nothing in the atmosphere, until she wrestles herself back, tone hoarse but voice steady. “It was the same with us. We were on the edge of the neutral zone when we began picking up tachyon particles from a nearby planet. The patterns of the particles intrigued me, and the captain sent me and a small away team down to the planet. I…” Eyelashes flutter – the pain claws at her head. “Forgive me. I do not recall anything further.” 

   Wow! Wow! This really is a good day! Here’s a stranger, telling her that she’s good at something, and, hey, for the moment, Sirise’s gonna ignore that that good at something is scaring the shit out of her. ( She knows she’s good at bad things. But she’ll take the laughter, the lightness in her chest, and pretend that this is and was a good thing. ) 

   “You know–” she begins signing; stops short with a visible scowl, and goes back to typing on her PADD. You know Orion? That’s weird. Before she can hand it over, she’s being offered the cloth, which she greedily accepts, signing a finger flicking at her temple, sighing all dramatic at the realization that she has to type that, too. But first; she adds to her previous sentence. Do you trade with Orions a lot then? 

   Ha ha, good idea. I am a doctor after all.

“A very good doctor,” Dhanna confirms, before adding, “Can ŋed p'tuepla Kolari? Though I’m afraid it isn’t my best language. I’ve had no need to speak it for so long.” In fact, it had been nothing but Rihannsu for the past several years...

She senses something, but through a veil of pain, heavy and slippery and hardly tangible, hardly there, in fact, more not than anything else. Barely solid, barely real, Aella believes she senses a strange focus. A concentration laced with curiosity. Of course, she finds herself brushing it off, disregarding it, for it is not a feeling of which she should be wary, even from what should be an “enemy”. ( And oh, if she were not so pain-ridden, the contemplation of being alone with a Romulan may frighten her… ) 

   “Strange readings?” she echoes, voice bare, ravaged – anxiety seeping into her soul. “Will you elaborate?” 

Dhanna considers for a moment, always wary to reveal too much information, but decides there’s little to risk by telling. “Elevated and distorted tachyons,” she replies. “Please don’t ask me what exactly that means. I am not a scientist. All I know is there was evidence of cloaking technology on a massive scale.”

   Oh, and there’s her opening, and any of the training Ania might’ve received flies right out of the window. “Yes, I am! It’s tremendously difficult, isn’t it?” A pause – a realization that she should fill in gaps, lest they be filled in for her. “I’ve always been a bit strange, but I’ve been working hard to fit in. Honor my family.” None of this is really a lie, so it’s easy to let her shoulder sag in resignation. “But… it’s hard.” 

Her neighbor is talkative. But there’s something endearing about her. Not everyone had the same military-oriented upbringing as Dhanna, after all. Being thrown into this with little preparation had to be difficult.

He considered her comment for a few seconds while his eyes fell from her face and focused indeterminately.  “I have many weaknesses,” he told her. He thought it strange she would think he was unwilling to share such information. Many of his weaknesses were clear for her to see. “I do not understand the nuances of human social interaction, and this makes casual participation difficult. Incorrectly understanding the implied emotional status of a situation can result in an inappropriate reaction. This has proven to be both inconvenient and potentially dangerous for myself and those around me.” 

This was just one example of his blatant weaknesses, but her follow up question seemed much more pressing. “I do not believe one person can be more important than another,” he answered automatically. “It is impossible to determine the worth of a sentient being, although many races value their own species existence over others. As I am one of the only non-organic species in existence, I have a unique perspective in that I do not value one living person over another.” Even as he said it, however, Data wondered if he did have a preference for certain people. Would it be the truth to say he would really value, say, Geordi’s life as much as a stranger’s?

Oh. He had just told her. He must not think it much of a risk to reveal that information. Or perhaps he was just a very trusting person. “I wouldn’t think of social interaction as a weakness. But I suppose you’re correct. In a tense situation, a misinterpretation could be quite serious.”